


Different Types of Tears

by Bisexualtrashlord



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: 4+1 Things, Angst, Crying, Fluff and Smut, Lots of Crying, M/M, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 12:48:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5248808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bisexualtrashlord/pseuds/Bisexualtrashlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of relationships is showing vulnerability, and letting your guard down. Crying is no exception. Tears can be shed for any number of reasons; some happy, and some sad. Regardless of the emotion, each tear shed brings these two men closer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Also known as: 4 Times Connor and Oliver have seen each other Cry and One Time They Cried Together<br/>Three are pre-Philip, fourth one post-Philip</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different Types of Tears

**Author's Note:**

> I really like reading fics with couples that cry, damn it. I like the intimacy that crying can bring out, and I wanted to toy with different scenarios in which crying would occur. The last one takes place after Philip events, but that one isn't canon complaint. I raised the stakes in my Philip scenario...kinda what I thought would happen in the actual episode...oh well, Oliver was alive so I can't be that mad.
> 
> Enjoy!

  * **Movie Night--Oliver**

 

“Really? Out of all the movies you could picked, you picked that one?” Connor looked incredulously, looking at the TV screen.

 

“What? ‘Bridesmaids’ is a classic, and it’s hilarious. Besides, you told me you liked this movie,” Oliver replied from the kitchen, juggling the Thai food he brought home.

 

“I said I tolerated it; I was forced to watch it with my sister and her friends once. This is a chick-flick, Ollie; a movie for gal pals or something.”

 

Oliver rolled his eyes as he walked into the living room carrying to plates in his hands. “Well it’s a good thing we’re pals. That’s half the equation.”

 

“I’m picking the movie next time, for sure—”

 

“It’ll be your turn then anyway. Now shut up, it’s starting.”

 

After an hour, Connor forgot how enjoyable the movie was; he laughed more times than he cared to admit. But this was one of the few times in days—hell, weeks—that he really felt at ease. Oliver played a large part in his mood, of course, but a good movie and good food didn’t hurt either.

 

“Holy shit, that was actually good. Good call on the movie, Oliver--”Connor stopped dead in his tracks when he heard faint sniffles next to him on the couch. He turned to find Oliver clutching a pillow, his eyes red and puffy.

 

“Are you…crying?”

 

“N-no…I was though. I’m sorry, but after the cake she makes gets rejected I lose it,” Oliver said sniffling and wiping his nose.

 

Connor tried to suppress his smile as he scooted over to his boyfriend to wrap a supportive arm around his shoulder.

 

“Who knew comedies could make people cry? Well, see, it’s a good thing I get to pick the movie next time; action movies never make people cry,” Connor said with hints of sarcasm, punctuated by a peck on the cheek.

 

Oliver gave a watery smile and pecked Connor on the cheek as well.

 

 

**Death of a friend--Connor**

“I’m home; Connor, you here?” Oliver called into the apartment from the threshold.

 

“In here,” Connor responded weakly from the bedroom. Oliver’s heart started to beat faster when he heard the sadness in Connor’s voice. The condition of the bedroom matched Connor’s emotion; the blinds were closed and the lights were off, darkness permeating the room. Oliver could make out the blob lying on its side as his sullen boyfriend.

 

“Connor, are you okay?” Oliver asked as he slowly approached him. Connor’s form shifted when the felt the mattress give underneath him when Oliver sat on the bed.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

Connor sat up and leaned against the pillows, wiping his eyes quickly in an attempt to show that everything was all right.

 

“I’m fine, Ollie,” Connor said, the breaking in his voice betraying his emotions.

 

“No, you’re not. Talk to me.” Oliver said gently, placing a supportive hand on Connor’s knee. Connor let out a shaky sigh before speaking.

 

“My friend…from high school he….he died last night. He killed himself.” Connor said, blinking rapidly to hold back the new, hot tears that were beginning to form.

 

“Oh, Connor…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Oliver said softly, rubbing soothing circles into Connor’s back, for he feel his boyfriend trembling beneath his hand.

 

There was a moment of silence between them, both men not knowing what to do or say to the other. Oliver never lost a friend, or in this way. He can only imagine what Connor was thinking or feeling right now.

 

“Can you…can you tell me about them?” Oliver asked, hoping he wasn’t over stepping. This suggestion made Connor smile slightly, and he went to get his laptop without a word. He came back to the bed and pulled up his friend’s Facebook page.

 

“His name was Curtis, and he was wonderful,” Connor said, clicking on his profile picture. Oliver’s heart broke at the sight of a bright, smiling young man. In the picture his blond hair was being tousled by a windy day on the beach; his smile warm and green eyes open and welcoming. Oliver felt tears form in his eyes, too.

 

“We went to high school together. He was gay too. He was…he was my first, my first with a guy, I mean.” Connor explained, staring at the picture like he was going back in time. Oliver nodded along with his story.

 

“We did everything together, he helped me come out to my parents. He never came out to his. He was so good, Oliver. He was such a great guy.” Connor’s voice began to break again, Oliver squeezed his shoulder.

 

“He sounded like it.”

 

“We went our separate ways once college came around, but we always swore to keep in touch. He…he actually e-mailed me the other day. I told myself that I would e-mail him back later but…but I…” tears were falling freely down Connor’s cheeks, he didn’t have the energy to wipe them away.

 

“I could have been there for him. Maybe…maybe I could have prevented it. Why wasn’t I there for him? It’s my fault, it’s all my fault…” Connor weeps, tears landing on the computer and onto the pillows.

 

“No, no, no it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault, Connor. It’s no one’s fault.” Oliver pulled him into a deep embrace, rubbing circles into his back and gently rocking him back and forth.

 

“Curtis, I’m so sorry.” Connor mutters into Oliver’s shoulder. They spend the night like that, holding one another. They make plans to go to the service the next morning.

 

**After glows--Oliver**

 

White. That’s all Oliver can see. A hot white intensity courses through him with each orgasm; letting out cries and pathetic yelps all the while. The next sensation he feels is a familiar weight laying on top of him, sweaty and panting. His vision clears to see Connor with a dazed expression on his face, sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. Connor joins his and Oliver’s lips together in a deep yet gentle kiss, a kiss that says that they’re still here, and that what they did was a reality. Oliver wrapped his arm around Connors neck with the hope that the kiss will never end. They parted the kiss and Connor rested his head on his chest.

 

“That was…” Oliver breathed out,

 

“Yes, that was,” Connor agreed with a small laugh, planting  little kisses on Oliver’s neck and collar bone. Connor rose from his position on top of Oliver and slowly pulled out. Oliver softly whined at the lack of contact between them.

 

“Here, let me get that for you.” Connor reached forward and rolled Oliver’s condom off, followed by rolling off his own.  Connor leaned forward and gave a his boyfriend a peck on the nose.

 

“I’ll be right back,” Connor whispered before retreating to the bathroom.

 

Oliver sat up and gripped the pillow next to him and allowed his mind to wander to recent events.

 

He can still feel everything; the tender kisses that Connor planted on him throughout the night, the way he praised every part of his body. His hands, his mouth, his eyes, all taking Oliver in, worshiping him, loving him.

 

When Oliver came home to a candle lit apartment and the sight of Connor lying across the bed with a soft smile, he had some idea of what to expect. But when Connor got up and grasped Oliver’s wrists and brought them to his lips, and whispered “let me take care of you,” his expectations were thrown out the window. After tonight he realized that being wrong might not be so bad.

 

No one, in any of his previous relationships, ever treated him with his much respect and reverence. In his old relationships it always felt like he had to impress his partner in order to keep them there. How much does Oliver have going for him, he thought. He’s kind of scrawny and a giant nerd, not many people are lining up to sleep with him, he would think.

 

No one called him amazing, no one called him a genius, no one called him beautiful, no one called him important. Until Connor came along.

 

“What’s on your mind?” Connor asked from the bathroom threshold, a washcloth in his hands.

 

“You,” Oliver simply said.

 

“Oh? What about me?” Connor said playfully crawling on the bed and wiping the sticky sweat away from both their bodies

 

“I just…I’m just thinking about how happy you make me. I haven’t felt good about myself for a long time. I’m getting better at it and…that didn’t happen until after I met you,” Oliver felt his throat tighten, and felt tears form in his eyes.

 

“Oliver…”

 

“And I…no one in my past relationships made me feel important. But you do and that…that means the world to me. And…well…thank you. I love you.” He whispered with a smile and felt a tear slide down his cheek, Connor leaned forward and kissed it away.

 

“I love you too. Always.”

 

**Pepper Induced--Connor**

 

Connor was not sure how this outing happened.

 

Oliver wanted to get to know more of the Keating Five outside of work, and somehow what was going to be a brief night out with drinks at a bar turned into dinner at a Mexican restaurant, a place Asher of all people recommended.

 

“They got the best Margs in the city, my man. And the waitresses? Ay, ay, ay!” Asher howled when the group entered the restaurant and huddled in a tiny booth.

 

It dawned on Connor that he’s never actually hung out with any of this classmates, and no, murdering people didn’t exactly count. He never had any interest in doing so, but 30 minutes into this outing, sharing stories and the largest plate of nachos the group has ever seen he realized that this group wasn’t so bad.

 

“Is this the first time we’ve hung out, like actually?” Laurel inquired taking another sip of her beer.

 

“I think so, unless you count that weird underground dance party,” said Wes.

 

“I’ve been trying to block the memory of dancing with my law professor, thank you for reminding me.” Michaela said dryly, a shiver running down her spine.

 

“Yeah, Connor told me about that, but honestly I’m surprised that you all wanted to meet up like this. It’s nice to see you all not trying to solve crimes.

 

“The pleasure is all ours,” Connor said wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

 

“Okay, okay; thanks O-Dog but I think we should make things more interesting.”

 

Somehow throughout the night everyone, save Oliver, the designated driver, was drunk enough to agree to Asher’s challenge of eating hot peppers, “to see who can go the longest without dying,” he explained.

 

“Not sure why I agreed to this…” Wes said, taking in the violently bright orange of the habenero.

 

“Whaddya sayin’ Wes? You can’t do it? Thought so…ya chicken.” Asher drawled out, clutching his margarita glass.

 

“Screw it!” Connor shouted at the table, grabbing the pepper and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. The table fell silent as the group focused in on Connor’s face, being attentive for any changes. His face turned to one of disgust and anguish in a second, turning an unflattering shade of red with sweat dripping from his forehead.

 

“Spit it out, Connor!” Michaela said handing him countless napkins to wipe his face.

 

“Nah, I’m good,” Connor choked out as tears fell down his face.

 

“Babe you’re sobbing,” Oliver said, his face showing worry.

 

“I got this…” Connor slowly swallowed the rest of the pepper and showed his bare tongue in victory to the rest of the group.

 

Connor spent the entirety of the car ride home moaning in pain and clutching his stomach, remnants of the hot tears on his face.

 

“Do you see why our drive for competition can be your downfall?” Oliver said, not taking his eyes off the road. A pathetic groan was Connor’s response from the back of the car.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

 

**Healing Process--Both of them**

 

They found him in an abandoned slaughterhouse on the edge of town. It was dark, and freezing and smelled of rotting flesh. They had found Philip, but they found him lying on his side with a bullet in his skull and blood all over the freezing floor. Connor heard the muffling coming from the locker next to him, and with the help of Frank and Wes pried the doors open to see Oliver, his Oliver, his wonderful beautiful Oliver tied to the back pole, gag over his mouth with dried blood on his face. He was shivering and sobbing like mad, his face was ghostly pale and his shirt ripped to shreds. The tears that fell from his face melted some of the frost on his cheeks.

Connor slowly approached him and took the gag off his mouth, and carefully undid his hands. Oliver practically fell into Connors arms and cried, cried as if his life depended on it, cried like his life almost ended. Connor held him close, wrapping him in his jacket and kissed his forehead and cheeks and every part of him he could see.

 

“I wanna go home. Just take me home, please.” Oliver whimpered buried in Connor’s jacket.

 

“We’re going home. We’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

 

A couple days later the two men didn’t talk about what happened, it was not brought up in conversation. Even when Connor noticed the jagged, ugly scars that littered Oliver’s back and chest; he wouldn’t bring it up until Oliver was comfortable doing so.

 

Oliver hasn’t touched his computer since what happened. He sticks close to Connor, which Connor gladly welcomes, if he could be there for Oliver, he will. Oliver is happy to see the others as they drop by to see how he’s doing; Laurel brings some flowers and Michaela gives Oliver a journal, “to write down any thoughts you may have,” she said.

 

It isn’t until two weeks later, when Connor is in bed and Oliver is soon to join him, when Connor catches himself staring at the scars again, which are starting to heal faster, when Oliver is the first to bring it up.

 

“When he came in the apartment, he said he wasn’t going to kill me. And for some weird reason, I believed him,” Oliver began slowly.

 

“Oliver, you don’t have to…”

 

“No, I want to. You deserve to know.”

 

“…okay,” Connor said softly.

 

Oliver took a deep breath before continuing, “He blindfolded me and we drove to that slaughterhouse. I didn’t know where we were going at first, I just knew that it smelled horrible. And it was so cold. Connor, it was so cold.” Connor reached an arm over Oliver’s shoulder, stopping before he touched any skin. The nod he got from Oliver gave him the indication that he wanted to be touched.

 

“Then he…he shoved me into one of those meat lockers, where it was somehow even colder, took the blindfold off,  and he pushed me to the floor and started to beat the crap out of me. Kicking…he kept kicking me and he wouldn’t stop. There was so much scraping and I was in so much pain. It hurt so much.” Oliver’s throat tightened and felt the first tears begin to fall. Connor had tears in his eyes too, but he didn’t care.

 

“Then he tied me up and just left me there. It was so cold and I was in so much pain. I had no idea what was going on outside, I just heard the gun shot, and then you came in and I couldn’t believe that you were actually there and oh god Connor I was terrified…” Connor pulled him into a tight embrace and never wanted to let him go. He vowed never to let Oliver get so deep into this stuff ever again. He was gonna keep him away from Annalise and this whole mess.

“Oliver I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault. This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for me.” Connor wept into his hair.

 

“No, it’s my fault…I was the one who kept going deeper in this…if I didn’t do that Philip never would have found us.”

 

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is…not anymore. All that matters is that you’re here, and you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re…” it was as if the more Connor uttered those words the more he cried because he still could not believe it. He had never felt this level of protection, and adoration, and _love_ for anyone he’s ever known. He wasn’t about to let one of the few good things in his life go because of something he did.

 

“We’re…we’re gonna get through this…All of it,” said Oliver pulling back slightly and cupping Connor’s tear streaked cheeks.

 

“Yeah…yeah we are. I love you so much.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 





End file.
